


oh no, please, god, tell me we're dreaming

by traumatic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - High School, Cunnilingus, F/F, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl Direction, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, Louis isn't a good chef, Polyamory, Private School, Sexuality Crisis, She makes a cake explode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows what she wants, but Harry's just as lost as she was the day they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to avoid the boring, filler, middle bits with the jump style of writing. I hope it worked out as well as I planned. 
> 
> Title from 'Dreaming' by Smallpools.
> 
> Unfinished work!!!

It starts in the winter.  
  
Louis begins at a New York private school after her family’s move from Doncaster. She’s not unhappy with the move because at least she’s only a ‘sophomore’ which means she still has time to find some friends before the big things happen.   
  
She walks toward the school in mid December, hair tied lazily back in a messy fishtail braid, feeling brazen. She wears the school uniform, but her tie’s missing and her skirt is three inches too short.   
  
No one yells at her.   
  
New York in snow is beautiful, she realizes as she heads inside. She wishes she could stay here forever, in this singular moment, but time moves on and then she’s being squeezed by a girl she doesn’t know.   
  
“I’m Niall,” the blonde-girl grins.   
  
She, too, is wearing the uniform, but her shirt’s untucked and she wears pink tights under the black skirt.   
  
“Louis.”   
  
It’s the start of it all.   
  
She meets Niall’s friends during lunch. There’s Zayn, who watches Niall speak like _she’s_ the pope and wears a white scarf instead of the tie, Liam, whose uniform is in pristine condition and watches Zayn like _she’s_ the pope, and Harry, who wears heels too high and colourful and watches the girls like they're her family.   
  
“Breaking rules already,” Zayn grins when she sees Louis’ skirt. “A little reckless, don't you think?”   
  
“A bit,” Louis smirks. “I dig the short hair.”   
  
Zayn’s hair is cut jaggedly, like she’d taken scissors and just chopped. It’s nice on her, though. Stark and pretty.   
  
“I had it shaved, but it’s been growing in.”   
  
“Badass,” Louis nods.   
  
“I know.”

-

Louis bonds with Harry the most. It’s like they were meant to be friends, or whatever.  
  
They spend most of their time with each other, in each other’s rooms, trading stories. It’s excellent and Louis is sure that Harry’s her best friend in the entire universe.  
  
“Lou,” Harry says in late February. “Will you cut my hair?”  
  
“No!” Louis shouts, too fast.  
  
She loves Harry’s long hair. It’s all curly and messy and soft and beautiful. But maybe some of those things are just Harry.  
  
“I like your hair. Do _not_ cut it.”  
  
“But it’s _irritating_.”  
  
“Get some head scarves.” Louis supplies. “Lavender would be a nice colour on you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s mid spring before Louis realizes she might be in like with one of her friends.  
  
She knows it’s very, very bad, so she doesn’t actually acknowledge the feelings. Just lets them grow as she fondly watches Harry stumble through the school in her heels, hair tied up in a silk, lavender headscarf.  
  
It’s not long, though, before the feelings are too big to ignore. Like a fetus in a belly, her crush grows from ‘might be in like’ to ‘definitely in like’.  
  
She tells Niall first.  
  
“I think,” she says, air still cool even though it’s late April, “that I may be in like with a certain curly-haired weirdo.”  
  
“We know,” Niall responds, colouring her lips red. “It’s been a big discussion in Zayn’s room when you guys aren’t around.”  
  
Louis has been out as a loud and proud lesbian since her first day. Mostly everyone’s been really accepting.   
  
“Is Harry even gay?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Niall replies with a shrug. “But I don’t think she does, either.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Louis gets a girlfriend in May.  
  
She hopes it’ll help get her out of like with Harry and it does, for a while. The girl—Eleanor is her name—is sweet and kind and beautiful in a way that’s similar to Harry’s.  
  
She has the same dark hair, though hers curls differently, and they both have narrow faces, but Harry’s is sharper while El’s is soft. Their personalities, though, have an innumerable amount of differences.   
  
Louis supposes that's why she still pines for Harry. Because it's not about how she looks, but who is is.

Louis tries her best to ignore her feelings and spends countless hours trying to subconsciously make Eleanor into Harry. She doesn’t mean for it to happen, but soon she has El’s hair tied in a mint green scarf.

  
It doesn’t really help, though.  
  
  
  
  
  
By June, she’s single again.  
  
She’s been hanging out with Liam more, though, because Liam seems to understand Louis without Louis actually having to tell her anything.   
  
“Where will my infatuation end?!” Louis mutters as she stares at the ceiling above Liam’s bed.  
  
It’s painted dark blue and purple, like a van Gogh-esque version of a starless sky.   
  
“When you die, probably,” Liam retorts. “Do you think I could cut my hair short? Would it make my face look rounder or nah?”  
  
“Or nah. It might actually make you prettier, as impossible as it sounds.”  
  
Liam’s already stunningly beautiful. She could let her hair grow into one gigantic knot and still be fucking gorgeous.  
  
“Will you do it?”  
  
Louis’ mum owns a hair-cutting chain that’s opened up a new store. That’s why they moved to New York in the first place. But Louis doesn’t understand why everyone wants her to cut their hair. She didn't go to beauty school for years; her mum did. Why not have her do it or something?!   
  
“You trust me with scissors that close to your Aorta?”  
  
“It’s the Carotid and sorta, kinda, yeah,” Liam shrugs and tosses Louis a pair of sheers. “Let’s get on with it.”  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s just the crest of July when Liam’s hair begins to grow back in.  
  
Louis, it seems, hasn’t inherited the ability to cut hair like her mother. Liam uses it against her at every chance.  
  
“Niall,” Louis ponders aloud when they're alone, “are you aware of the big crush that Zayn has on you?”  
  
“Yes, I am.”  
  
“Is there something going on that I should know about?”  
  
Louis will be outraged if Ziall slept together and she didn’t know.  
  
“Sorta, not really,” Niall shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t want t—”  
  
“If you say that you don’t wanna talk about it, I’m going to punch you,” Louis warns. “I tell you everything!”  
  
“I know and I’m sorry,” she has the nerve to look a little sheepish, at least. “Kept it a secret because it makes me feel sick.”  
  
“What is it?!”

Louis’ curiosity has been piqued and now there’s no going back.  
  
“We...fucked, sorta,” Niall shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”   
  
“Oh, Jesus. I can’t fucking believe this shit!”   
  
“Louis—” Niall begins, but Louis is pissed off and on a roll.   
  
No one can stop her.   
  
“I can’t believe this! I am not worthy of Niall nor Zayn’s trust! I am just flabbergasted! So outraged that I am leaving until I get an apology worth the effort of returning.”

Louis stands up and leaves. 

-

Niall apologizes the next day with M&M pizza and cookie dough ice cream. She brings the girls along, too, and they have a girls’ night in while watching action movies.  
  
Harry sits next to Louis, body warm next to Louis, and holds her knee.  
  
It’s the best night of Louis’ life.  
  
  
  
  
  
August is full of school shopping and a last minute trip to Doncaster with her family. She doesn’t return until two days before the first day of school and she’s exhausted.  
  
She spends her last day of summer in Harry’s bed, watching the sunlight fade into inky blackness with Harry at her side.  
  
“I don’t want to go back,” Louis whispers into the darkness.  
  
She can’t see her hand in front of her face, it’s so dark.  
  
“Me neither,” Harry responds, hand holding Louis’ elbow. “I want to stay here in this moment forever.”  
  
“Me, too.”  
  
She’s pretty sure she might be sort of in love with Harry.

-

The group reunion the next day is one to rival the new Full House sequel.  
  
They all hug each other, desperately happy and ecstatic.   
  
“I missed you,” they whisper to one another, “so much.”   
  
Louis whispers to Niall once they all separate, “Anything sexy go on while you guys were gone?”   
  
Niall, Zayn and Liam had spent the last two weeks of the summer in some cabin in Canada.   
  
Louis’ and Harry’s parents had decidedly told them to fuck off when they asked. No adult supervision and all that.   
  
“Later. Who’s your homeroom?”

-

“So,” Louis asks once Niall and she have settled into their second period class.  
  
It’s childcare and development, a class Louis had taken only because Niall had made her. Something about wanting to care for a plastic baby like it was her own.  
  
“I had a threesome,” Niall announces.  
  
“What?!” Louis says and it’s loud enough to disrupt Mrs. Jones.  
  
She sends Louis a withering look before returning to the syllabus.  
  
“It was glorious! The best sex of my life!”  
  
Louis wishes she was there. She hasn’t had sex in forever, since Eleanor, and she wouldn't mind a foursome with a bunch of hot chicks.  
  
“Fuck you guys.”  
  
“I want to date them both.”  
  
“Then do it,” Louis replies simply.  
  
Polyamory sounds like an okay thing. Louis doesn’t judge.  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s the end of September before Louis admits to Liam that she’s in love with Harry.  
  
“Really?” Liam asks, wide-eyed, because she always feigns innocence.  
  
“Yes, really.”  
  
“That’s great, Lou!”  
  
“No, it isn’t,” Louis throws a pillow at Liam’s head.  
  
It hits her in the temple and sends her sprawling to the floor.  
  
“Why not?!” Louis can't see to check, but Liam sounds annoyed.   
  
Good.  
  
“Because she’s probably straight or something and I am utterly fucked.”  
  
“Sorry, Lou-Lou,” Liam crawls back onto the bed and pats her head three times roughly. “But maybe she isn’t straight?”  
  
“If she isn’t, we certainly have the gayest group in the world.”   
  
  
  
  
Everyone knows by Halloween.  
  
Well, everyone except Harry.  
  
Louis doesn’t plan on mentioning it to her, so she figures her love will remain unrequited forever. She’s definitely not okay with that, but she’ll make do.  
  
She spends the entire Halloween afternoon with her girls, laughing and eating candy they’d stolen from Liam’s mother’s candy dish.  
  
When the clock strikes six, they all burst into action. They’ve been invited to a Halloween party. ‘The best one of the year’, as the invitation had read.  
  
Louis wants to get shit faced.  
  
She pulls on her costume—she’s being the god guy from the second The Purge film—and waits around for her friends to get dressed.  
  
Their costumes, of course, are more elaborate, so they take more time. Niall’s being Tris from Divergent, which means she has to put on temporary tattoos, Liam’s being Flo from the Progressive commercials, which means a wig, and Zayn’s being Violet from the Incredibles, which means she wants everyone to make sure her arse looks good in the tight suit.

Harry’s costume is a mystery to all, though. She said she didn’t want to ruin the surprise.  
  
“Harry,” Louis whines, “hurry up!”   
  
Harry's the last one. Everyone else has been dressed for a least half an hour.   
  
They wait another five minutes before Louis decides she’s going to force Harry out of the bathroom. She stomps over and yanks open the door, gasping with wide eyes when she sees Harry dressed as Miley Cyrus.   
  
“Nearly done! Just give me a mo’.”

  
Louis’ mouth is dry because Harry looks _beautiful_. She’s got that outfit that Miley wore at the VMAs on and, while it had been sort of enamouring on Miley, it’s extremely breathtaking on Harry. Louis can't move, can't think, can't breathe.

The girl she loves is _stunning_ . Too bad she doesn't love Louis back.   
  
“Can you help me? I can’t get the grips to stay.” Harry frowns.   
  
“Um, sure, yeah.” Louis smiles nervously, shuffling into the room.   
  
She takes the hair grip from Harry’s hands and tightens the bun on Harry’s head before pinning it down. She crosses it with a second one so it stays and then smiles in the mirror.   
  
“Ready?”

-

The party isn’t as shitty as Louis had thought it would be.  
  
Nick, it seems, knows how to do something right. It’s loud and messy, smoky and reeks of beer. A typical teenage bash.   
  
The first thing Louis does is pour herself a drink. She has a mask pulled down over her face, so she drinks from a straw tucked under it.   
  
“Wanna dance?”

She turns, seeing Ed.  
  
They’ve been friends for a while, since he spilled milk all over her shoes after a week of her being in New York.   
  
“I’m not quite drunk enough yet,” Louis grins. “Come back later.”   
  
Ed grins and half hugs her, his own drink in hand.   
  
“How’s it going with H?”   
  
“We’re just friends. I think she’s...you know...straight.”   
  
“Someone in your goddamn group was bound to be,” he snickers.

-

“Lou, shit, no! Don’t look at her!”

She’s surrounded by Zayn, Niall and Liam. Her girls.

She'd feel at home if her home wasn't dancing with some fuckface in a bad costume. 

It’s stupid and cliche and Louis doesn’t understand why anyone would _choose_ to be Hans. He's the bad guy, the guy who breaks Anna's _heart_ , tries to fucking murder her, and then her _sister_!

No one wants to be the fuck up who ruins everything. It's probably the only costume that fit over his big head. Fucking wanker.   
  
“I need another drink,” Louis states, watching Harry and Tommy for one more second before she turns and pours alcohol into a cup.   
  
She tosses her mask off and drinks the whole thing.   
  
“Bloody fucking hell.”.   
  
“I’m sorry, Lou,” Niall holds her arm cautiously.   
  
Louis looks back, catches the golden light on Harry’s skin as Tommy kisses up her neck and fits his mouth to hers, and looks away, hurt look on her face.   
  
“I don’t know what I expected,” Louis mumbles.

Harry's just her friend. She can dance with whomever she wants. Louis is being irrational.

“I just—I can’t be here right now. I need to go outside or something.”

So she does just that.  
  
She refills her cup and pushes through the crowd, blindly stumbling into drunken, horny high schoolers as she goes, and avoids eye contact with all of them. She reaches the sliding doors and pushes them open, practically running outside.  
  
She can’t believe she was so goddamn _stupid_.  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s the middle of November before Harry corners her.  
  
Louis has been ignoring her—well, not _ignoring_ , but she hasn’t hung out with the girl alone since Halloween—because Harry’s dating Tommy. It breaks Louis’ heart to see the hickies he leaves on her neck.   
  
Doesn’t Harry know a Hans when she sees him?  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry pulls her into the girls’ lavatory. “Why’re you being so distant?”  
  
“I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
She has no reason to be hurt like she is. Harry isn’t her girlfriend, they’ve never kissed. She’s being unreasonable and she knows it, but she doesn’t care. She has to get over Harry somehow.   
  
“We haven’t hung out since Halloween and you don’t answer my texts most of the time, and when you do, it’s one or two word responses. Are you mad at me?”   
  
Today, she wears her uniform shirt, buttoned only high enough that her bra isn’t exposed. She wears hideous brown boots on her feet, totally against school policy, and she’s still beautiful.  
  
Louis hates that that’s all she can think about.  
  
“I’m not mad,” Louis breathes out through her nose.  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
“I’m not,” Louis shakes her head. “I’m just working through some stuff, okay? And I need a break.”  
  
“A break from me?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“What kind of stuff?” Harry looks down at her, eyes narrowed.  
  
“Stuff.”  
  
“Fuck you, Louis!”  She snaps. “Fuck you, fuck your ‘break’, and fuck your ‘stuff’! You’re being a bastard and you know it! Talk to me!”  
  
“I’m in love with you,” Louis replies firmly, lip shaking. “That’s what I’m working through. That’s my stuff.”  
  
Her lip shakes and she walks out, leaving Harry in the bathroom.  
  
She’s sure Harry’ll never speak to her again.  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s December fifth when Louis decides she’s going to try to forget about Harry. She can't wallow in Dove chocolate bars and raw cookie dough forever. If she keeps it up, she'll weigh, like, as much as an elephant.   
  
So she goes to the coffee shop three blocks away from her house and flirts with the cashier. She gets her phone number.  
  
The cashier looks nothing like Harry. She has short and straight black hair, eyes the colour of sand, and she’s shorter than Louis is. She calls herself Angel.  
  
She’s nice for a while. The sex is good and Louis likes her enough.

Louis isn't sure how long they'll last, but for now, it's fine. They're fine.

 

  
  
Louis smiles and kisses Angel on her cheek, the day Christmas break starts, standing outside her house.   
  
“I’m going home to Doncaster for Christmas,” she whispers. “I’ll see you after New Year’s?”   
  
“You definitely will. Happy early birthday, by the way.”   
  
“Thank you,” Louis kisses her on the nose. “Goodbye.”

-

She arrives back home the day before New Year’s.

  
She doesn’t tell anyone that she’s home, not even her girlfriend, because she really needs to be alone. She locks herself in her room and ends up crying as she stares at the countdown.   
  
At midnight, texts ring in on her phone, four of them to be exact. But none of them are from the person she wants.   
  
She takes things into her own hands and sends Harry one.   
  
**To Harriet Jones: Prime Minister at 12:00am** **  
** **  
** **Happy new year’s, love. I’m sorry.**   
  
She regrets it immediately.   
  
She curses her stupidity as she paces across the room, hands in her hair.   
  
Her phone buzzes, reminding her of the four unread messages. She checks it nervously and responds.   
  
**From Niall at 11:59pm** **  
** **  
** **Happy New Year’s!!!!!!!! what’s ur revolution?** **  
** **  
** **To Niall at 12:01am** **  
** **  
** **my resolution, you mean???** **  
** **  
** **From Niall at 12:01am** **  
** **  
** **yeah whatever. mine is to ask Z &L to make it official with me bc they’ve been beating around the bush too long** **  
** **  
** **To Niall at 12:02am** **  
** **  
** **they’ll say yes for sure, ni. :)**   
  
Louis can be supportive at times.   
  
She responds to Liam’s ‘ _happy new year’s, lou!!’_ with the same, and to Zayn’s _‘i hate new year’s. wish you were here so we could get high :(‘_ with a frowny face.   
  
Angel’s message is next and Louis sort of dreads opening it. But she does it anyway.   
  
**From Angel at 12:00am** **  
** **  
** **wish you were here to kiss me :(**   
  
There’s an image attached and Louis opens it and gasps.   
  
Angel’s sexting Louis, unprovoked. Seducing Louis with her breasts. How _very_ unfair.

-

Harry responds the next day.  
  
**From Harriet Jones: Prime Minister at 7:39am** **  
****  
****and you. i hope you and angel have a good time x**  
  
Louis frowns at the phone, confused, and composes a text with an excessive amount of question marks.  
  
**To Harriet Jones: Prime Minister at 12:15pm** **  
****  
****i’m not with angel???? i’m locked in my room wtf** **  
****  
****From Harriet Jones: Prime Minister at 12:17pm** **  
****  
****oh. you’re home?** **  
**  
Louis isn’t technically supposed to be back from Doncaster for two more days. Whoops.  
  
**To Harriet Jones: Prime Minister at 12:18pm** **  
****  
****early flight. tickets were cheaper, so mum jumped on the chance. she’s got clients today, so it’ll be just me.**  
  
Louis’ sisters go to a boarding school in Britain, so she only sees them every few months. It’s sad, but it’s what’s best for them.  
  
New York is no place for a bunch of innocent little mongrels.  
  
**From Harriet Jones: Prime Minister at 12:20pm** **  
****  
****want to have dinner with me gems and mum? she wants to know.**  
  
Louis is tempted.  
  
So she says yes.  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry and Louis become big parts in each other’s lives again after that. They’re inseparable and single and Louis is still in Love with Harry, but at least she knows she hasn’t a chance.  
  
It’s easier that way. Before, she’d had hope. Now, it’s been squandered.  
  
It’s late February when the crush becomes a bit of a problem again.  
  
Louis has just been broken up with—Angel’d sworn it wasn’t Louis, that it was _her_ , but Louis knows the truth. She’s not stupid—and she doesn’t feel sad about it at all.  
  
They’d only been together for, like, three months anyways.  
  
“Louis,” Harry says over the phone, “let’s go to the movies.”  
  
“Le cinéma?”   
  
Harry _hates_ it when Louis uses French on her.  
  
“Yes, dipshit. Let’s go.”

-

Louis and Harry sit on the top row because Louis is in love and Harry's eyes ‘get tired of looking up’.  
  
They’re seeing some sci-fi romance-y flick Harry’s had her eyes on since they saw the commercial weeks ago.   
  
“I hear the special effects are killer,” Harry whispers. "Plus I love the cast."  
  
“Chris Pratt is my fave,” Louis muses back and Harry frowns at her. "JLaw is alright, too, I guess."  
  
Louis shrugs and stuffs a handful of popcorn into her mouth as the movie begins.   
  
Halfway through, she feels Harry’s knee bump into hers, hard enough to know that it wasn’t an accident. Louis bumps her back, hiding her smile in a mouthful of Reeses Pieces.   
  
It goes like that for a while until Louis feels Harry’s hand curl around her thigh. She squeezes once, staring straight at the screen.   
  
Louis bites her lip and returns to the screen, watching a metallic man pour drinks.   
  
A few moments later, Harry’s hand slides up higher, fingers brushing the edge of Louis’ skirt.   
  
Louis’ eyes are wide, but she doesn’t move, just lets Harry’s fingers creep higher until they’re brushing the edge of Louis’ pants. Louis doesn’t move, just squeezes the armrest beside her and breathes in and out.   
  
Harry’s nimble fingers push Louis’ thighs open slightly, gently.   
  
Louis can’t believe this is happening. Harry ‘Straight Girl’ Styles is pulling down Louis’ pants in the middle of a movie theater.   
  
What has Louis’ life become?   
  
Harry’s fingers are soft, unsure, as they trace their way to Louis’ clitoris. She rubs there, soft and hesitant, and Louis has to bite her hand to withhold the moan. She has no self-control, apparently.   
  
Louis’ thighs shake with the feeling as Harry slides her fingertips over her and it hits Louis so very suddenly that it’s Harry with her fingers on Louis’ clit that she squeezes her thighs together accidentally, forcing Harry’s fingers to press harder. Harry doesn’t retract her fingers, just moves them faster and faster, growing more sure as the moments go on. Louis bites so hard on the inside of her cheek she's sure there'll be an indent later as Harry strokes her carefully, effortlessly. Louis loves her so so much it aches and she gasps quietly when Harry picks up speed, gripping the armrest so tight her fingers hurt.

Louis looks up at Harry, at her blank face as she pretends to watch the movie, and she comes, choking back a moan as her thighs squeeze Harry’s hand, pressing her fingers against her harder, stroking her through her orgasm.

Louis looks down at her legs, at her pants around her knees, and feels confused and in love.

God, she hates herself.    
  
  
  
  
  
No one talks about it.  
  
Harry acts like she always has and she and Louis remain best-friends, but they don’t touch each other’s nether regions again.  
  
Louis gets off to it a lot, the memory of it, and is vaguely embarrassed about it.   
  
She needs to get a grip, honestly.  
  
“Niall,” Louis whispers in late March.  
  
They all had a sleepover at Zayn’s and Niall’s the only other person awake.  
  
“Will you come to the kitchen with me?”  
  
“Sure, mate. I’m fucking starving.”  
  
They tiptoe to the kitchen, cursing when they trip on things in the dark. It’s neither of their houses, so they don’t quite know all the nooks and crannies.  
  
“Harry fingered me in the cinema last week,” Louis whispers, peeling open the fridge and searching.  
  
“How could you not tell me?!” Niall whisper-shouts, pointing a finger in Louis’ face.  
  
“I was preoccupied.”

Louis pulls out the milk.  
  
“Was she...you know, any good?”   
  
“She was brilliant,” Louis is sort of turned on even speaking about it. “God.”   
  
“That’s crazy!” Niall laughs. “We are the gayest group of people on earth now.”   
  
“I don’t think she wants to...like, further it? I think she was just testing the waters or something.”   
  
“Straight girls,” Niall scoffs. “That’s fucking cruel.”   
  
“Especially after I told her that I was in love with her, you know? You don’t experiment with someone who loves you if you don't intend on continuing it.”   
  
“You’re in some serious shit,” Niall nods, grabbing the Captain Crunch off of the top shelf.   
  
She pours it into two bowls and Louis pours the milk.   
  
Teamwork.

-

Louis wakes up to someone shaking her. She opens her eyes groggily, seeing Harry sitting above her.  
  
“What’s up?” She asks, rubbing her eyes blearily.   
  
The room is still dark, sunlight only beginning to shine in.   
  
“Can we do the thing that we did at the movies?” Harry asks and she’s beautiful in the faint light.   
  
“Are...are you sure?” Louis sits up, instantly awake.   
  
“Yes. Please.”   
  
Louis nods and takes Harry’s hand, leading her into the bathroom. She locks the door hastily and goes to turn on the light.   
  
“No,” Harry whispers, “leave it off.”   
  
There’s a light in the electrical outlet that provides a low, ghastly sort of brightness. Louis can manage.   
  
Harry walks over to her and Louis smiles, hands tracing Harry’s waist.   
  
“Please,” Harry whispers.   
  
Louis nods again and turns them around so Harry’s back is to the door. She kneels in front of her, looking up.   
  
Harry looks so beautiful from down there, eyes blown out, nearly all black, the angles of her face sharpened by the faint light.   
  
Louis’ heart and pussy ache as she traces her hands up Harry’s legs. She presses a soft kiss to her knee as she widens her legs. She kisses the outside of her underwear—already damp—and trails her hands up to pull off Harry’s underwear.   
  
“Please,” Harry whimpers.   
  
Louis nods and presses her tongue against Harry’s folds, hands gripping Harry’s thighs. Harry moans, fingers tight in Louis’ hair, and slides farther down the wall. Louis presses in, against her clit, licking Harry with determination and concentration. She sneaks her fingers back and presses in gently.

She doesn't want to hurt her.

“God,” Louis says, agonized, “you’re so _wet_ .”   
  
Harry’s reaction is immediate and entrancing. Her fingers tighten in Louis’ hair and her hips buck off the wall, a moan ripping from her throat as Louis breathes out. She curls her fingers and presses harder with her tongue, fucking into her until Harry's knees shake so much Louis has to help her to the ground.

Harry lays back, looking unsure and wild, as Louis shakes her head softly.

“Here,” Louis lays back instead. “It'll be easier if you sit over my face.”

And so she does. Harry kicks off her pants and her pajama bottoms and kneels above Louis’ mouth, looking anywhere but at her face. Louis sighs and repositions herself, pressing her tongue flat against Harry's clitoris and pressing in with her fingers again.

Harry moans again, grinding down hard on Louis’ tongue and fingers, and gasps, chasing the feeling with reckless jumps of her hips. Louis fucks her harder, determined to make this the best sex of Harry's life. Harry gasps loudly when Louis squeezes her hip with her free hand, guiding her rhythmically to match Louis’ tongue.

Louis can't feel Harry's thighs clenching, can hear his moans and gasps growing breathy, more desperate, so she quickens her pace, pressing Harry's hips down and around.

“Please, please, Louis, _please!”_

Harry squeezes Louis’ wrist, gentle and sure, and Louis knows it's coming. She gives Harry one more hard twist of her fingers before she coming, soaking wet and as loud as Louis has ever heard her.

Louis fucks her through it and can't help the desperate and hopeful smile that peaks around her lips. She loves the girl, is all.

When Harry settles down, she slides to the ground beside Louis and breathes heavily into the dark air.

Louis remains where she is and looks up at Harry’s face. Even in the barely luminescent light from the small bulb, Louis can tell just how beautiful Harry is.   
  
She decides right there that there’s no getting over Harry Styles. Not now, not ever.  
  
  
  
  
  
It sort of becomes a regular thing.  
  
Louis knows how bad of an idea it is—she’s in love with the girl, for fuck’s sake—but, as she’s previously stated, she has little to no control.  
  
It’s July when she decides that she can’t do it anymore.  
  
They’re at another party—a summer bash at Ed’s—and Louis is the designated driver. She has high hopes for the party because it’s Ed’s and Ed himself is awesome.  
  
She hopes Harry’ll fuck her good tonight.  
  
She sips on a ginger ale and watches the drunken juniors and seniors hobble around, hardly dancing at all. The music is loud and boisterous, so fast paced that Louis can’t understand the words. Some rap song that Zayn probably requested.  
  
She waits for it to change and, when it does, she wishes she and Harry were a couple because it’s soft and slow, a pounding beat of smooth tones in her ear, and she wants to dance.  
  
She sways to the beat, all alone, and searches for her friends in the crowd.  
  
Maybe she can join in on their threesome dance off and make it a foursome.   
  
She spots Harry first, though, and she’s dancing with some guy.  
  
Louis drops her drink to the floor. She can’t believe she was such an _idiot_.  
  
The feelings were never going to go away, she knows that. Logically, she always knew that.

Louis just hadn’t expected Harry to flaunt her heterosexual escapades in front of her face when they had some _very_ homosexual escapades going on behind closed doors.   
  
Louis shakes her head, disgusted with herself, and decides she’s not going to let Harry’s hetero antics ruin her night.   
  
She heads toward a group of beautiful high school juniors and smiles at them.   
  
“Want to dance?”

-

As the designated driver, Louis acts responsibly and drives everyone to their homes. Zayn first, then Liam, and then Niall.  
  
Harry, of fucking course, lives closest to Louis, so she’s last.   
  
Louis turns the radio up loud, blasting Panic! loud enough to make her eardrums rattle. Harry tries to speak, but Louis just sings louder, hoping she’ll get swallowed up in the flurry of words.   
  
They’re halfway to Harry’s when Louis feels fingers on her thigh. They’re Harry’s, of course, but Louis is _so_ not in the mood.   
  
“No, Harry, stop,” Louis says, slamming the radio so it shuts off. “Not tonight.”   
  
“What’s wrong?” Harry frowns drunkenly, returning her hand to her lap. “Did I do something?”   
  
“Yeah, well, no, but sorta.” Louis struggles to find the real answer. “I can’t do this anymore.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“This...us. I can’t get off with you anymore because there’re too many feelings and you aren’t even remotely into me outside of wanting to have my fingers in your twat.”

Louis turns onto Harry’s street.  
  
“Is this because I danced with Rick?”   
  
“That had only a bit to do with it. I think we should just be friends. Platonic, used-to-fuck-but-don’t-anymore friends until you sort your shit out.”   
  
“What's there to sort out?!” Harry’s voice is unusually high. “I’m not gay, Louis! I’m just...I’m a horny teenager and I’ll take what I can get!”   
  
“What about what you gave?” Louis says sharply.   
  
Harry’d been pretty good at fingering Louis until she came and Louis won't let her downplay this like it was nothing.   
  
“You’re impossible!” Harry shouts at her. “I’m not fucking _gay_ and I’m not _bi_ and I don’t like _girls_ !”   
  
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Because it is!”

“Get out,” Louis snaps, detached. “Get out and don’t talk me ever again.”  
  
“Louis, I didn’t mean—”   
  
“Get out.”

They’re in front of Harry’s house anyway.  
  
Louis isn’t so much of an arse as to make a drunk girl walk home in hot pink heels.   
  
“Louis, please,” Harry begs.   
  
“No. Now get the fuck out of my car.”   
  
Harry opens the door and gets out, opening her mouth to speak, but Louis is already gone.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you missed it, the dashes were for short jumps in time and the giant spaces were for longer jumps. 
> 
> thanks for reading x


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes

Louis doesn’t make it around the corner before she’s sobbing so hard that she can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t think. She pulls the car to the side of the road and turns it off, pounding her fists against the wheel so hard the horn blares over and over again.

Tears stream down her face and she’s never felt more fucked up. Harry's a goddamn idiot. An idiot who hates who she is, who denies it. Louis should've seen it from day one.

She doesn't know how she _missed_ it.

She wipes at her eyes, still sobbing, and turns the car back on. She drives, not to her house, but to Zayn’s because she doesn’t want to talk. She just wants to get fucked up and Zayn’s the perfect person for the job.

-

The next day, she goes to see Liam because Liam always makes Louis feel better. Even if she makes her feel insane at the same time.

Louis pauses before knocking, unsure if Liam will understand why she let it go on for a long.

“Fuck it,” she says and then knocks.

Liam answers the door and Louis immediately wraps her in a tight hug, crying silently into the crook of Liam's neck.

She hugs Louis back, no questions asked, and closes the door, the most supportive person Louis knows.

“What’s up, Lou?”

Liam leads Louis to her bedroom, pushing them both down onto the mattress.

“Harry...she...said that liking girls was wrong,” Louis lays back on Liam’s bed, staring up at the intricate van Gogh-esque ceiling. “She fucking hates herself and she's taking it out on _me_. Can you believe that?”

“She did what?” Liam frowns, features turned down in hurt and confusion. “What exactly happened?”

Louis recounts all the gory details—she even mentions the leg holding, which is both too detailed and not detailed enough—and when she’s finished, Liam’s hugging her so tight she can’t breathe but it’s lovely because it’s Liam and Louis loves Liam. Liam is Louis’ best friend.

Louis sobs into her shoulder, hands fisted in her shirt, angry because she loves someone who hates herself so much she'd take it out on her best mates.

“I can’t believe that she’d say that to you! After she’d fingered you in the cinema and everything?!”

“I know. What a fucking hypocrite.”

“We’re going to act all Louis icy cool to her from now on. Fuck her. We don't play with homophobes. Want to watch Lilo & Stitch?”

“All of them? Even the one with the cousins?”

Louis’ and Liam’s names combined is Lilo, so obviously Lilo & Stitch had become a classic joke between them. Liam, though, hates the one with all of the cousins, claiming it’s ‘a cop out of a movie’. She’s full of shit, though, so Louis doesn’t take offense.

“Of course,” Liam nods, pulling back to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Want some pizza? I’ve got some M&Ms stored from the last time.”

 

Soon school’s started again and Louis is a senior now, so she gets to do senior things.

She goes to the senior halloween bash dressed as the Queen with Liam who goes as Katniss, Niall who goes as Rose Tyler, and Zayn who goes as Hazel Grace. They become a power group, though Louis remains the only single one. Zayn, Niall and Liam are going strong, but they accept lonely Louis into their relationship as the unofficial sex-less fourth member.

Louis loves them all so, so much. She’s never loved anyone more than she loves them and she’s so glad to have them. She wishes the world had more people like them and less like Harry.

She shares half her classes with Harry, but she pretends to not notice her. She pretends to not care when Harry’s surrounded by teenage boys, giggling and laughing and living her life like she isn’t a homophobic prick with a tendency of putting her fingers in other girls’ twats.

It’s a picturesque life, really, except Louis is miserable and drowning in her own lust while Harry is light, untied, a ship without an anchor.

Louis hates her, except she really doesn’t which fucking sucks.

“Lou,” Niall whispers.

They share cooking class together. It’s the only one they have together and it’s a fucking blast, except for the fact that Harry also shares it.

“How much baking soda was I supposed to put in that cake?”

“I don’t know. Like a teaspoon?”

“Oh _shit_.”

They both rush to the oven and gasp.

“He’s going to kill us,” Louis mutters.

The cake is all over the goddamn oven. It's risen way too much. Mr. Loftus will be scrubbing the oven for _ages_ just to get the bits of burnt chocolate off the bottom.

Louis finds a laugh in herself and it develops into an uncontrollable guffaw.

“What’s going on over here?”

Mr. Loftus steps into their tiny kitchen.

He’s a large man with a dull voice and no sense of humour. Whenever he even hears a laugh, he goes searching for it to crush it. That's probably the only reason he even got off his arse to go see them.

He's not a very good instructor.

“Our cake exploded,” Niall murmurs, staring at Louis like she’s crazy.

And, well, maybe she is.

“How did you manage this?!”

“Too much baking soda,” Louis begins to calm down, but she's still laughing uncontrollably.

“I’m sending you two to the office so you can explain to the principal!”

“She’s just going to send us right back here,” Louis wipes the tears out of her eyes and stands up fully, smile gone. “It's not our fault we've no cooking skills. That's what she'll say.”

“Do what I say, Tomlinson!”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m going to write you up!” He threatens, meaty finger in Louis’ face.

Louis rolls her eyes and scoffs. What a _dick_. She's not afraid of him. He's a pusilanimous dumbass.

“I’m _so_ scared,” Louis replies, voice dull and flat, and then says, “Hey! I sound just like you!” with great enthusiasm.

That’s how she gets ISS for three days and also how she realizes that maybe she needs to calm the fuck down.

 

 

November comes and goes and soon it’s the week before Christmas break. The seniors, of course, get a winter formal, but Louis decides she isn’t going to go.

She won’t be forced to watch Harry and her newest boy dance and snog and fuck on the dancefloor.

Instead, she grabs a bottle of alcohol from her mum’s liquor cabinet and gets drunk.

She drinks so much she can’t feel the anchor weighing her down, can’t feel the blurry ache of sadness. She drinks so much that she texts Harry drunkenly, broken heartedly, and feels nothing but good about it.

She drinks so much she falls asleep with half her body hanging from her bed.

-

Louis wakes up to a pounding headache, an angry mum, and a half empty bottle of whiskey.

She stumbles to the bathroom and vomits until her eyes prick with tears. When she thinks she’s finished, she brushes her teeth, pops some Advil, and collapses back in bed.

Her phone dings so loud next to her ear that she cries out in pain. She reaches for it, eyes bleary, and opens the texts.

**To Unknown Number at 3:45am**

**Harryy i sort og h8 u but its only bc i love yuo ok but yuo need to stop playing games with these boys bc i am 4 u bro**

**To Unknown Number at 3:46am**

**ignor that last message bc i dont lvioe you. youre a homophobic prick and i h8 u**

**To Unknown Number at 3:50am**

**i’m v drunk what u doin**

**To Unknown Number at 3:56am**

**probably shagggin one of those boys that u pretend to likee ha**

**To Unknown Number at 4:10am**

**thinking about u makes me sad. why is thet????????????!!!!????$@**

**To Unknown Number at 4:11am**

**i cunt remember**

**To Unknown Number at 4:12am**

**not cunt cant. oops soryr**

Louis wants to fucking scream and cry and run far, far away from her drunken texts and stupidity.

Why can’t she fucking _spell?!_

She scrolls down past some more ridiculous and completely illegible texts before she sees Harry has responded. She swallows roughly, dread filling her gut, and reads it.

**_From Unknown Number at 7:02am_ **

**_i’m not a homophobic prick._ **

Louis doesn’t know what she expected, maybe an apology or something, but it certainly was not that.

She presses the block number button and feels good when she’s sure Harry can’t text her back again, if she even wanted to. She tosses her phone to the bottom of her bed and goes back to sleep.

-

She wakes up to Niall jumping on her bed several hours later.

“You smell like booze,” Niall muses, lips bright pink.

“New lipstick?”

“It matched her dress. Liam wore red to match Zayn’s and Zayn wore this dark, almost black blue-ish colour that would’ve looked wretched on anyone else but her that matched mine.”

“Zayn can rock anything.”

“True.”

They lay on Louis’ bed in silence for a while, but it’s not awkward. It’s calming. Louis needs calming sometimes. Keeps her grounded.

“I drunk texted Harry last night,” Louis whispers and then it’s too real.

Everything in her life is too, too real.

“What did you say?”

Niall grabs Louis’ hand and squeezes, supporting to the end.

“A bunch of illegible shit and then I called her a homophobic prick.”

“Good,” Niall cuddles into Louis’ side. “She is one.”

 

 

It’s February before Louis says fuck everything. Fuck everything and fuck Harry. She doesn’t need some girl anyway. She’s perfectly fine with herself and her life and her family.

Valentine’s Day is spent in the cinema, watching some action film about zombies. Its pure brilliance awes her. She goes alone, of course, and is happy with the decision when she sees Niall’s snaps about her date with her girlfriends.

 

 

It’s late March when Louis gets her first uni acceptance letter. She opens it in her room, surrounded by her friends, and squeals when she reads how they can’t wait to see her in the fall.

She got _in!_

They all cheer for her, holding her tight with grins on their faces and Louis can’t help but miss the brown curls that she used to bury her face in when they hugged. She knows it’s fucked up, but she loved the girl.

Shit like that doesn’t fix itself overnight.

“Dinner’s on me!” Niall announces. “Actually, it’s on mum, but whatever.”

“I can’t wait to get out of this shit school,” Louis murmurs.

“And we’ll be right with you, mate!” Niall jeers back. “Back to Europe we go!”

Easter flies by and so does April. It’s spent with her girls, giggling and being happy.

Louis is pretty sure she’s over Harry.

 

 

So in May, Louis takes Niall dress shopping for prom. Niall’s brutally, unabashedly honest, so she's the best person to go with. Plus Liam's not really what she'd call ‘fashionable’ and Zayn won't do anything without motivation.

“I want something that’ll make my boobs look great,” Louis tells Niall as they browse through the shops.

New York is the perfect place for prom shopping.

“Like a corset-type thing?”

Niall sips on her slushie, pulling out an orange dress and sighing. It's short and orange with a full tulle skirt.

It's sort of hideous.

“Yeah. A corset.”

Louis reaches for the edge of a silky red dress and then decides that’s too evil villain for her. She walks past it.

“This?”

Louis turns to see Niall holding a pale blue dress and it’s nearly the same colour as her eyes. It's beautiful and simple, but far too long for Louis’ taste. [(x)](http://i1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/Frank_Goldstein/n_zpsmrhbzwvk.jpg)

It’s better fit for Niall, actually. She’d look fucking stunning in it.

“Not for me,” Louis shakes her head. “You, though. You’d look fucking _killer_ in it.”

“We’ll see.”

“Did Zayn and Li already get theirs?”

“Yeah, they ordered online,” Niall says with a scoff, “which is the stupidest thing ever, but who am I to judge?”

“Their _girlfriend_.”

She pulls a particularly flowery ensemble off the shelf and sighs. Harry’d have looked lovely in this.

But Louis certainly doesn't care and she certainly isn't thinking about Harry. Definitely not.

“Zayn got this strappy black thing that looks so fucking hot on her and Liam got a lilac dress that’s more extravagant than I’d ever thought she’d chose and I love it and her to death. They’re both so beautiful— _shit,_ ” Niall shakes her head, tucking another dress over her arm, smitten. [(x)](http://i1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/Frank_Goldstein/z_zps6ejosquj.jpg) [(x)](http://i1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/Frank_Goldstein/li_zpsrtj2ls3l.jpg)

“And so are you, literally. You guys could make billions in porn.”

Louis circles back to the front, fingers brushing a white two piece set with gold accents. [(x)](http://i1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/Frank_Goldstein/lo_zps2nfocm49.jpg)

It’s sort of extremely beautiful. She tucks it over her arm and gets herself a dressing room.

-

“I’m so glad we got this out of the way and didn’t procrastinate.”

Louis puts her bags in the boot of Niall’s mum’s car.

“Prom is Saturday, dipshit,” Niall mutters, mouth full of pretzel and artificial cheese.

“It’s earlier than I would’ve bought my own if I’d gone alone."

Niall slides into the driver’s side as Louis gets into the passenger's seat, and starts up the car.

“I still sometimes get into the wrong side of the car.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I was driving with my mum back from the airport after Christmas and I got into the driver’s side and I was very confused by the wheel pressing against my tits.”

“That’s the best fucking thing that has ever come out of your _mouth_!”

Louis grins. Niall says that all the time.

-

On Saturday, all of the girls get ready together, as per the usual.

Louis helps Liam tame her hair by supervising as her mother does it, Niall helps Louis by telling her that her ‘usually' short legs look ‘unusually’ long, Zayn helps Niall by complimenting how beautiful she looks, and Liam does pretty much nothing.

Everyone does their part—sort of—and it's as good a day as any.

When they’re all finished and dressed, they pose for pictures in the arch of Zayn’s mum’s house. Trisha takes an innumerable amount of photos of ‘her girls’ and then passes out flower-wrist things.

“Corsages,” she calls them. “Zayn was clueless, so I figured I’d just buy all of you one.”

Zayn’s family doesn’t exactly know about the polyamorous relationship yet. She just thinks Louis is fucking Niall, which is totally plausible so she doesn’t mind at all. She rather likes it, if she’s being honest. It makes her going to prom broken hearted and alone less pathetic.

They all thank Trisha immensely and then head out into the car where Niall drives them to prom.

Louis hopes it’s going to be a good night.

-

Louis is so glad she bought the dress. She’s so glad she got over Harry. She’s so glad she went to the goddamned _prom_.

Someone has spiked the punch. It's the highlight of her life.

“Getting shit faced already?” Ed saunters up, grinning.

He looks sleek and collected in black pants and a dark blue shirt to match his date’s dress.

“Why not?” Louis smirks, shrugging. “That’s what high school’s for, innit?”

“I think that's uni, actually, but whatever.”

He takes a sip from his cup and cringes.

“Bloody hell, that’s bitter.”

“Is Harry here?” Louis fakes nonchalance.

“Yeah, she’s dancing with Mary.”

“ _Mary?!_ ”

Mary is far too pretty for her own good. Louis is going to shove her foot so far up Mary’s arse that she has a _literal_ foot in her mouth.

Ed nods solemnly.

“It’s a bit...perverse, too. Loftus yelled at them, but they just moved deeper into the crowd and kept on grindin’.”

This is why Louis is friends with Ed. He’s not afraid to tell Louis to truth. Her girls, while being the best and always wanting the best _for_ her, tend to try and protect her by sugarcoating everything.

“Oh,” Louis swallows roughly. "I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah, see you, mate."

She places her half empty cup down onto the table and heads out in search of Eleanor.

Eleanor’s always up for a dance and Louis is just drunk enough to want to make a scene.

-

“El!” Louis shouts, spotting the edge of long dark green dress. [(x)](http://i1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/Frank_Goldstein/e_zpsqeh9yfwb.jpg)

“Lou!” She grins. “How’s it going?”

“Alright. I want to dance, but everyone’s either a tool or taken or has a dick.”

“I’ll dance with you!”

Louis grabs her hand and leads her through the crowd until she spots the mass of Harry’s curls and the edge of her flowery dress. [(x)](http://i1070.photobucket.com/albums/u487/Frank_Goldstein/h_zps0cmatq8q.jpg) 

She turns to El and begins to dance with her, hands brushing the bare skin revealed around her waist. Thank _god_ for no dress code.

They dance until the music’s slow and smooth, a chorus of voices that sounds like angels but also like punk rockers. Louis doesn’t even get her own similes. She's too drunk too care.

“I love your dress,” Louis muses, playing with the fabric at the back of Eleanor’s neck. “It’s very you. _Très belle_.”

“Thank you. Yours is gorgeous, just like you.”

Louis has the strangest urge to kiss her, so she does. She presses her lips to Eleanor’s, hands tangled loosely in her hair, and then she’s two steps away from her, feeling startled.

“What the…?” She says with confusion, looking to see Harry standing where she was. “Harry, what the actual _fuck_?”

“You don’t get to kiss her!” Harry says in Eleanor’s face, fearsome, as the music grows louder. [(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UabZ9_qMHN4)

“Harry!” Louis yanks at her shoulder, sending her stumbling away. “ _What_ _the fuck_ _are you doing?!_ ”

“She doesn’t get to kiss you and hold you and dance with you!”

“And you _do?!”_ Louis scoffs, incredulous. “You were an internalized homophobe less then a week ago!”

“People can _change—_ ”

The music changes, the band playing just loud enough that Louis knows it's for her. Empowering music. Her girls must be behind this. Or Ed. Either way, it gives her the nerve to say what needs to be said. Even if the song's practically ancient. [(x)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJfFZqTlWrQ)

“No, they _can’t_ ! People don’t change. You’re the same as you were when I met you! Just a confused little girl trying to work your shit out, but ultimately failing because you can't stand the truth. The truth that you’re not as straight, not as _perfect_ , as you thought! You're afraid of who you are and you're not ready confront it so don’t fucking drag me down with your homphobic arse!”

“I am ready!” Harry yells back. “I’ve changed, Louis.”

“Bullshit!”

Harry looks at her for a second before she’s surging forward and pressing her lips to Louis’. Louis freezes, hands in the air in front of her face, and pushes Harry off of her. What the _fuck_.

What the fuck?!

“No, you don't just get to _do that_ ! You can't! That's not how life fucking works! God, you're a fucking  _child_ , Harry," Louis shakes her head, disappointed, and turns away from the scene. “Can't believe I ever thought I loved you.”

Louis stalks away as the music fades out. The crowd around Harry begins to dissipate.

Louis finds herself another cup and a new dancing partner.

She's not letting Harry ruin her good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a slut for p!nk shhh

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written girlxgirl smut lmao but I tried


End file.
